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Warm sunlight paints the changing foliage of the forest with a deep, inner glow. The varied greens of spring and summer have moved to browns, yellows, and reds of every imaginable hue. Persistent evergreens such as cedars and pines imperiously retain their emerald hues but all the deciduous trees gleefully change their clothes. As I sit outside my Yew house and gaze over the gently heaving sea, my eyes half close in lazy comfort. This is the middlin' Fall days when squirrels industriously gather hickory, pecan, and beech nuts. The black walnut beside the house lets another heavy green husked nut drop with a thud and leaves drift down, released from their home by its passage. It is ladybug season in this part of the country. Every year about this time, thousands of laybugs spawn and swirl about on mysterious, busy errands. I can see dozens flitting about in the air, some drifting and other powerfully charging through the air. Robins and nuthatches arc smoothly, snapping up the tiny hardshelled beetles and rest at times, looking about them alertly at this sudden bounty.

This morning I had been fishing and the early afternoon hunting so I had earned this time to just sit, relax and reflect on things. The fishing had been new to me, at least as a solo fisherman. I had been training in that trade and decided to put the book learning to good use this morning. The sea was choppy and gusts of cool air pulled at Darlin's mane as we sailed out to deep water, just southeast of the city of Britain. I had several fishing nets and after buffing properly, I cast one in and began to pull on the lines, hauling in the net to see what I had caught. At first, it was just boots and sandals with a couple fish but as the morning progressed, my creel began to fill with items of all kinds! Fish of every hue and size and name as well as treasure maps and even the mysterious MIBs that signaled a far off disaster that I would have to investigate soon. Most of the times, a single tentacle beast, two beasts or a single wave elemental would also appear, trying to keep me from my rightful sea treasures. But once, two tentacle beasts and three wave elementals all appeared onboard at once! I was rightfully nervous about my sudden shipmates that particular time but managed to subdue them all after a time. I almost went back to shore then but realized that these things happen! At least I wasn't trolling, just using fishing nets.

I stretched in the wooden chair and listened as the "Rrroohhhk!" of a displeased Cyclops or Titan echoed from deeper in the forest. To be honest, I'd rather put up with Cyclops and Titans than the garishly hued mutant Headless that had invaded Britain last night. Sachiko and I had been deep in Despise, sending undead back once again to their graves when death cries began to ring out with a regular cadence. The first couple of people I msg'd didn't answer but Simon did and he alerted me to the fact that 'mad chickens and headless' were invading. Sachiko and I agreed that mad chickens were probably worth seeing and left the rest of the dungeon for another time. Most of the invaders had been slaughtered by the time we arrived but we did manage to slay a couple of them as well as a few mad chickens. I think "mad" is a poor term, they were just angry about something. Chickens do that sometimes, they just bok out.

The change of a season always made me introspective and this year was no exception. Farmers were finishing most of their harvests, preparing it for the winter and storing it away. Huge wagons of hay, pumpkins, late garden crops, apples and cordwood trundled slowly towards the cities from all the surrounding villages. In a few weeks it would be late fall and then Winter's cold breath would begin to sweep over the land, bring red to cheeks and frosty exhalations. I mused about how a year's seasons could parallel a human life. I picked up a quill pen and ink bottle and began writing out a few thoughts:

When the leaves have fallen
And scattered o'er the earth
Like faded gems adorning the chilled soil
Then creeps dark winter;

Freeing the winds of experience
In the hollows of my spirit
Where wild wolf-packs gather
Upon the plain of my soul;

And I in feral joy, run freely with them
Across the cold memories of time.

I chuckled and capped the ink bottle. Wyspr would roll his eyes and tell me to stick to bashing monsters when he read this. I chuckled even louder as I remember his shame faced admission from the day before. He had been out hunting the forests northwest of Britain with his Great dragon, Flaym. From what he said, they had been doing famously, killing monsters left and right. Wyspr had filled two loot bags and was partially through the third one when suddenly, Flaym halted what he was doing and arced his neck around to stare at Wyspr. His draconic eyes whirled redly and he lunged at Wyspr in an attack! Wyspr nearly fell off his Nightmare in shock but rallied his druidic senses and...galloped away as fast as he could yelling "Flaym. Stop. Flaym. Stop. FLAYM, dammit, STOP!" I can only imagine what a hilarious scene it was, Wyspr bleeding from some wounds his own pet dragon had afflicted, galloping around and around in those lush, green meadows, yelling frantically at his dragon to stop, his stamina dropping steadily with every passing moment. Wyspr did agree that it was funny in retrospect but at the time he was just flabbergasted and in shock.

You never can tell about those dragons. Wyspr assured me he had fed Flaym just an hour before so there was no reason for Flaym to attack him. I just shrugged and said, "Well, what can you expect? Dragons do not possess the vast intellect and capabilities that they did in ancient times. I remember your other dragon used to toss fireballs at you, singing your long pretty hair off until you figured out how to make him stop." Wyspr scowled and muttered something steel plated brains and stomped off, still limping from Flaym's tender attention earlier in the day.

An orange and black ladybug whirred up and settled down on the tip of my nose. I went crosseyed as I tried to examine it closeup but just as I had almost got it in focus, it whirred off again in a blur of wings. I glanced at the woodpile at the side of the house and made a note to talk to Wydyn about chopping more trees before the real cold weather came in. But that could wait, as everything else could today because this was just another ladybug afternoon in the World of Dreams.

Very nice